


Parallel to Parallel

by Skyler10



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Pete's World, Rain Sex, Sex in a TARDIS, Smut, music student au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyler10/pseuds/Skyler10
Summary: In every universe, she is his and he is hers. Rose Tyler and the Doctor enjoy an intimate, secret moment in a variety of dimensions.





	Parallel to Parallel

**Author's Note:**

> For dwsmufest's birthday and quickie prompt: keeping quiet. Each drabble here is exactly 69 words.

His fingers unzipped her jeans.

Her bum bucked back against the bulge in his.

He slipped inside her knickers, teasing and tempting.

She bit her lip. Couldn’t swear, couldn’t shout his name.

They were the last two awake on the TARDIS.

But they were still in the console room. Any one of their traveling companions could walk in.

Their song blended with the ship’s hum: Love was made here.

 

* * *

 

 

His fingers unzipped her jeans.

Her bum bucked back against the bulge in his.

He slipped inside her knickers, teasing and tempting.

She bit her lip. Couldn’t swear, couldn’t shout his name.

They were the last two in the library. Except the receptionist two floors down.

There weren’t cameras on this floor. But the stacks were unforgiving and every muffled moan broadcasted to the galaxy: Love was made here.

 

* * *

 

 

His fingers unzipped her jeans.

Her bum bucked back against the bulge in his.

He slipped inside her knickers, teasing and tempting.

She bit her lip. Couldn’t swear, couldn’t shout his name.

They were probably the last two in the music building. Still, better safe than sorry.

They had claimed a practice room. But it wasn’t quite soundproof and every muffled moan broadcasted a symphony: Love was made here.

 

* * *

 

 

His fingers unzipped her jeans.

Her bum bucked back against the bulge in his.

He slipped inside her knickers, teasing and tempting.

She bit her lip. Couldn’t swear, couldn’t shout his name.

They hid from the rain in an old blue policebox, long ago abandoned.

Still, who knew how soundproof these things were.

They wrote on the wall, leaving a memorial to their rendezvous behind: Love was made here.

 

 


End file.
